


Baekhyeon bites Sehun's butt

by lawlipoppie



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Confessions, M/M, butt biting, dumb boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:29:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lawlipoppie/pseuds/lawlipoppie
Summary: The Title





	Baekhyeon bites Sehun's butt

**Author's Note:**

> will i ever NOT be devastatingly cheesy abt these two? stay tuned to find out

Baekhyeon goes through the lyrics of each of the songs from the setlist. He lingers on the ones from their new album. Tomorrow, they'll be performing them live for the first time, and Baekhyeon has this fear that he will forget the lyrics mid-chorus or something. Not like it hasn’t happened before. He hums, remembering the melody and the words, and insisting where he feels the wobble, the unsureness. Some terms are difficult to pronounce, and Baekhyeon cheats a little by brushing over them with some ad libs.

It would disturb Sehun if he were noisy about anything else, but if he’s singing, Sehun doesn’t mind.

Baekhyeon has his own room right across the hall from Sehun’s. He only entered it to leave his luggage before followed Sehun into his. He doesn’t feel like being alone tonight, and neither does Sehun, even though they’ve already spent all day together along with the other members.

Sehun showered first, and when Baekhyeon got out too, complaining about the fact that Sehun wet all the towels, Sehun just waved him off and asked Baekhyeon to roll on him a little. He’s sore. They both are. They had dance practice for a few hours in the morning, sat on the plane from Seoul to Saitama. Their trainer always insists on them foam rolling, but they always forgo it, either out of laziness or lack of time. Not the best of habits.

When Baekhyeon stretches over Sehun it doesn’t do much, but it’s better than nothing. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should either. They keep at it lazily till Baekhyeon just finds himself resting his head on the backs of Sehun’s thighs as Sehun is prostrated on his belly along the bed. Only the bedside lamp is on, its warm glow quite strong.

His legs have a firmness, but also a give when not flexed. Baekhyeon just moves his head from time to time, the weight of it making Sehun twitch.

Sehun repeats a japanese word, over and over, changing the tail of it, taking it up and down, making it crisp and letting it peter. Baekhyeon stops scrolling through the lyrics. He’s at the last song. The lyrics are in front of his eyes, in his mind, on his tongue. He will remember.

He looks at Sehun again, only seeing the back of his head. Baekhyeon listens. Lines to use during his ment. _I’m glad to be back here._

His hair is still a bit wet, his perm not quite fluffed to full capacity yet. It’s held back from his face with a headband. One of fuzzy, thick fabric. Bright magenta. He probably begged it out of some staff nuna.

Baekhyeon can only see his profile. His face is soft, and his eyes attentive. Baekhyeon’s heart squeezes, and he opens his phone again. Cosmic Railway. The verse with the moonlight. He tries it again, partly in his mind, partly with his voice. It flows easily. Tries it once more, eyes closed, placing himself in the harmony of all the other voices. He goes through it thrice.

Then he is sleepy. Or maybe content. Not quite. Yearning. He always is, when next to Sehun. And when away from Sehun too. And any time.

Baekhyeon thinks of the songs he will be singing tomorrow, thinks of the future, and here too, of Sehun muttering things over and over, diligently. It’s the same book, the same thick book of Japanese for beginners he bought from the airport the very first time they went as a group to Japan. It’s frayed, its edges frilly, spine softened, not closing properly. Sehun repeats. Baekhyeon closes his phone and puts it on his chest.

He turns his head to the side. There is this hill, this ascent of plushness. And Baekhyeon’s cheek smushes against it. His ear, and the side of his face is still on his thigh, which it not really soft, but it has a sturdiness that is just right. Or it’s not, but Baekhyeon finds everything about Sehun just right. He settles snugly into the place, his head half on his thigh, half on his butt. Sehun repeats another word over and over, and Baekhyeon doesn’t know the meaning of this one either, but it lulls him, drags him into slumber. Baekhyeon is not fully content - he needs just a bit more, just one more something (one more someone) to really get there, but for now, this is the best it could be, just listening to Sehun.

He has a beautiful voice. A scope with no edge. It’s all waves of suavity, with an occasional abrasion in the dip of his timbre. Even his screechy laugh, his whines too, his shouts. They could be biting, stinging to others, but they sound pretty to Baekhyeon. He likes listening to him. To his anything and everything.

Baekhyeon twists his head again, and now he is just about nosing under his shorts.

It’s Sehun. Just Sehun, so what if he feels the sloping between his legs, the very border of his cheek, the raise. A softness that is characteristic to no other part of his body. And a scent of skin, or a texture, that is fine, precious. Its colouring, faded, with weak nuances, for it’s winter and he lost the tan he got over the summer. Or is it that his own flesh finds its yielding so pleasant.

“Can I bite your butt, Sehunnie?”

He laughs. Even without seeing, Baekhyeon know it’s the one that is more scrunched eyes and tugged lips than sounds.  And it doesn’t jolt him, doesn’t make him think of what he just asked. Instead, he just revels in the evanescent tinkle of it.

“Why?”

“I’m hungry.” He is. Peckish. Of something. Not food. But he is.

Sehun chuckles, snorts, snickers, all rolled into one huff. It’s cute and knowing and if anything, it’s the essence of familiarly, expectation, tell-tale of having known each other for so long. “When aren’t you.”

Baekhyeon smiles, not offering more of a reply. It wasn’t a question anyway.

Then pause, and Baekhyeon just looks at the skin. He doesn’t see it. It’s too close for him to focus. It’s blurry, hazy, an expanse of dreamy smoothness. Everything about this moment is. Baekhyeon thinks he must be really sleepy, or another brand of tired, or maybe just another brand of yenning.

“Bite away then,” Sehun says.

And Baekhyeon bites.

He cannot feel much with his teeth. They just sink, sink some more, until a small dome of skin forms between them, passing a bit into Baekhyeon’s mouth. He closes up a little then, lips against the flesh before he releases it. It barely lasted a second.

He pulls away, and he sees the faintest, prettiest pink in the form of tooth marks. They disappear fast - fade into a peach, and then into nothing. It’s like Baekhyeon didn’t even do anything to it at all.

Sehun’s thigh is tensed now. Hard. Baekhyeon feels the tickle of the light dusting of hairs on his face, and that’s comfortable too. How can everything about this be comfortable.

It could be on account of the past they have. Sharing the same living space, the same ambitions, the same dreams ever since they debuted. Baekhyeon reckons there is no other way to make a bond stronger than this. The comfort could be stemming from it.

Baekhyeon moves a little higher, and rests his cheek on the uphill of the same cheek he just bit. His shorts have ridden up enough for it to be skin on skin. He’s wearing gym shorts. Tiny ones. Baekhyeon is sure they’re Jongin’s, for only he has a preference for this sort of material. And there is no underwear. The thigh tightens again, but Baekhyeon stops moving then, finding his place, and Sehun seems to let his guard down, for he goes lax.

Baekhyeon can’t hear him muttering in Japanese anymore.

He opens his mouth, and bites it again, higher, harder, leaving one red, round mark. It thrives for longer than the other one, before it too, dies. He does it again, in the same place, but he’s gentle now. No mark at all. Then Baekhyeon just bites wherever he can reach, lining the hem of the shorts with these weak, feathery nips.

What the hell is he doing. He pulls away. His heart is racing. The thigh under his nape is even tenser.

“If you weren’t an idol, you’d have a successful career as a pillow,” Baekhyeon says.  

He snuggles into it. It’s just so soft. Maybe this would carry an inflection. Underneath, it would be something that is intimate in a way it shouldn’t be. Improper. But Baekhyeon doesn’t see it that way, and Sehun accepts it for what it is. Sehun likes skinship, a body against his, more than he likes the absence of touching.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sehun responds. Overlate, as an afterthought. Baekhyeon’s face is on his ass. It’s a precious ass. All of Sehun is precious, Baekhyeon thinks. He sees the dome of the cheek arising before his eyes, the very summit of it, a lune of softness, before the dale that is the dip of his lower back. Baekhyeon reaches for it with his mouth again, but instead of opening up, to bite, he lets it as it is, lips relaxed, gaping mildly, and presses it long and firm to the cheek.

It’s teasing. It’s nothing. It’s on the same level as the biting.

“Hyeong.”

_It’s not nothing._

Baekhyeon’s lips have been in many places on Sehun. His forehead and his shoulders and his back and his cheeks and his neck. Many, many places. And Sehun’s lips have been too, on Baekhyeon, in many many places. But they were just that maybe. Lips on skin. Not a kiss. They didn’t feel like kisses, not like this one did.

“Mm?”

“Did you just kiss my ass?”

Baekhyeon did. He really did. He doesn’t know why and what for and what he wants with this. But he did. Maybe an indulgence.

“I’d kiss all of you, to be honest.”

And now he stills.

He forgot to make that a joke. He forgot to strip it bare of all the sincerity, bleach it till it was utterly insignificant. He forgot. He slipped up.

He shouldn’t have said that. Not like this. It’s too big, and Baekhyeon feels unsettled, misplaced. Suddenly, Sehun’s thigh under his nape is uncomfortable, suddenly, being this close to Sehun is nerve wracking, and a caustic sort of effervescence coats his skin, shrouding him in disquietude.

He raises off him. And now, he can see Sehun’s face. It seems it was too long ago that he’s seen it last. Or is it because the last time he saw it, it was before he said what he said. And it was before Sehun looked at him this way.

The eminence of his brows and his forehead is shiny from his moisturizer. Other panes of his face carry the same healthy gleam, but all this does is make Baekhyeon unable to read his expression. His eyes are soft though. The skin around them, the flection, while the gaze itself is hard, incisive.

Baekhyeon feels a singeing down his spine. He feels small, boneless, entrapped by his own panic.

So what if Sehun likes men too. So what if Sehun likes it when Baekhyeon plays with him, so what if Sehun said he is the one whose company he likes most, so what if he’s his favourite hyeong (even over Junmyeon), so what if he admires him the most, finds him the cutest, and told him all of this. So what. It doesn’t mean Sehun likes him.

Sehun’s cheeks are pretty too. They’re somewhat sallow now, Baekhyeon thinks. It might be the light, but it might also not. It might be that Sehun doesn’t like what he heard.

A heaviness settles in Baekhyeon’s gut, barbed and seething. Fear.

But he keeps peering at Sehun. There is nowhere else to look, so he looks at Sehun. The headband slid down a little, and some shorter strands are released, falling over his forehead. Nothing changes in his gaze.

On Baekhyeon’s lips, there was Sehun’s skin, his butt, and then, that sentence. He licks his lips. Licks the memory off, makes it gone, so he can think forward. Nothing comes to mind yet. Sehun is looking at him. Seeing maybe, or expecting, because, surely something more is added now to his scrutiny, strata, glazes of things that are opaque to Baekhyeon.

And then, Sehun says “Do you mean that?”

His tone is odd, as if it still carries the residue of the Japanese words he repeated previously. Or is it something else. A friability.

Saitama, from under them, isn’t saying anything, isn’t rumbling anything. Through the walls, he hears nothing. There is all this silence. So much of it, pushing Baekhyeon to speak.

Should Baekhyeon laugh. Make it into a tease. Say, _of course I do, Sehunnie_ , and add a mischievous wink. Is it too late to transform the truth into a joke. Or replace it, add something to it to dilute it, or dismiss the heft and the feeling in it. Make it mean nothing. Make it change nothing.

As it should.

Baekhyeon licks his lips again. Sehun’s skin, his own words, are still there in the cracks. Still there.

“I wish,” speaks Sehun again, before Baekhyeon gets to. He then swallows, the drop of his Adam’s apple visible. “That you mean it.”

Baekhyeon hears it in hollows, not these utterances, but in all the ones that weren’t spoken in their stead. He hears it with delay, as if spoken from too far away, so it takes a while until incomprehension turns into comprehension, and Baekhyeon now understands. _Understands_.

There was nothing else to stop, to seize in himself, Baekhyeon thought, but there is now another locking, a derangement.

He’s taking too long to react it seems, for he witnesses the dropping, the wreckage of Sehun’s face. It was nearly neutral expression before, but now it pinches, yanks, and he looks away from Baekhyeon and down at his book. He stares a bit at it before he just faceplants into it with a small groan.

Something pushes at Baekhyeon from within and now he’s smiling, too big and too wide, for he feels like he doesn’t have enough face or mouth or anything in order to express the volume of happiness crashing into him. This is unexpected. Too much so. He didn’t even think it would be tonight that the feelings he’s been harbouring will find their denouement. He even thought a moment like this will never come, and he nearly made peace with that.

He slides next to Sehun, on his tummy, aligning himself with him. He carefully grabs the book and pulls it away. Sehun hides his face into the sheets now, and Baekhyeon only comes closer, cups his face too and guides it towards himself before he wraps his arm around Sehun. He grabs him tight, his middle and his waist, and his front is against Baekhyeon’s and this too, is a hug like others have never been. A tiny bit more lovesome, more affectionate.

Sehun is limp though, as Baekhyeon puppeteers him into his embrace, makes the both of them comfortable. While Baekhyeon is so happy to squeeze him close, Sehun isn’t really cooperating.  

But lastly, he throws his arm over Baekhyeon too. He doesn’t grab, doesn’t pull. But it’s there. “Are you trying to console me?” he asks. His voice is low, but so desaturated and lifeless and awful. Baekhyeon tucks his forehead to his chest, seeing more warmth, more closeness. A good place to be. The perfect place to be.

“For what,” It’s easy to speak now, when its merriment instead of dread compressing his thorax, “for what would I console you?”

Baekhyeon can barely reach all around him like this. He’s still so embraceable though. Even when he was younger and shorter and ganglier, and now too, when he is broad and built and tall. Maybe Baekhyeon really had his eyes on him from the beginning.

“Didn’t you understand, hyeong, that I…that I—“

“I like you,” Baekhyeon blurts. It’s vivid, dulcet. It needs to be said this way, without fear, while they’re chest to chest.  

Sehun breathes out, long and tired. “Yes. Yes, that.” A tiny bit of force in the arm he has around Baekhyeon, but it’s more like he’s seeking purchase than a grasp. “That’s what I meant.”

Baekhyeon titters, and he moves around until he can speak next to Sehun’s ear. “Silly, that’s what I meant too.”

Sehun jerks, promptly headbutting him with his chin. “Hyeong,” he whines.  

Perhaps Sehun didn’t expect this either. Perhaps Sehun thought a moment like this will never come either.

“For how long?” Baekhyeon asks. He’s in disbelief too, at the suddenness of this, this unfolding. But Sehun, slowly, begins wrapping himself around Baekhyeon too, his arms and his legs, as he tucks Baekhyeon into him. Baekhyeon smiles bigger, impossibly big.

“Long enough,” Sehun replies after a while, words doctored by his own simper. It sounds _lovely_. “You?”

“Long enough.”

And this is when the laughter comes. This is when Baekhyeon really giggles, truthfully, not as a means to mask a confession, but to relish in it, and pulls him closer closer closer, and Sehun does the same, and god, how have they been so dumb all along, crushing on one another for so long without saying anything. He doesn’t know why both of them got brave at the same time, what pushed them, what made them snap. But this is not a bad time. Baekhyeon doesn’t feel like this is late, overdue. It’s just right.

“Does that mean that I can now _romantically_ bite your butt?” _Are you my boyfriend now. Are you mine now._ Baekhyeon meant to ask it like this, but he supposes the question he came up with is good enough.

Sehun’s lips gather, and his teeth over them, and he’s _literally_ biting back his smile. His eyes give it all away though. “You can.”

“Right now?” Baekhyeon would be delighted to do it again right now. To be his right now.

Sehun shakes his head though, and Baekhyeon’s stomach sinks for a second before he speaks. “But you said that you’d kiss all of me.” Pause. “Do that first.” Pause. In his breath and tone, and then he’s blushing. Splashes pink all over his nose and his cheeks and it’s just a fervid, cerise flowering under the skin that Baekhyeon finds stupidly attractive. Or he’s the stupid one. For Sehunnie. “I wanted that for so long.”

“I’ll get to it immediately!” Baekhyeon promises. He _can’t wait_. Good thing Sehun is already here, in his arms, and they’re tangled and he’s so close, so easy to kiss. His face goes into his neck. Pretty neck. “Is it okay if I start here?”

Sehun’s palm runs down his back. Broad enough to cover a lot of it. It tingles so pleasurably that Baekhyeon squirms a little. “Higher,” he says.

Baekhyeon reaches his jaw. It’s pretty too, _of course_ , the angle of it and the length, and even its ligature to his ear. Baekhyeon fits a digit in that small valley, the rest of his fingers and palm evolving around his nape.

“Higher,” Sehun says before Baekhyeon even gets to ask.

He pulls Sehun’s face down now, since he can’t move himself. His chin is pretty. An even stretch of smooth skin. Baekhyeon’s lips would fit to it _just_ right.

“Higher.”

“Here?” Baekhyeon breaths over his mouth. It’s a beautiful one too, slightly skewed, which just makes it more arresting, makes it so Baekhyeon can’t look away from it. The breadth of his lower lip, the pigmentation - withered, candied roses - the wave of his cupid’s bow. It’s so alluring to him. Hasn’t Baekhyeon been looking at this mouth for so long. Doesn’t he know it the best. But he’s never tasted it though, never felt it against his own.

“We can start here,” Sehun says, his gaze happy and wanting and warm and excited and all the things Baekhyeon hoped to see.

Baekhyeon leans in, and they start here.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i am not smart enough to html that into existence for you, but still, if yall wanna talk, u can find me on twitter too at @lawlipoppie ^^ 
> 
> and also, comments make me abt as happy as baek is right now as he smooches sehun for the first time, so....um....


End file.
